


You left on a Friday

by Point_of_no_return



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Boys In Love, Goodbye Sex, M/M, Romantic Fluff, prison boyfriends, reimagined season 10 ep 3 and 4, season 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21667807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Point_of_no_return/pseuds/Point_of_no_return
Summary: A short continuation of the time Ian had left in his cell. Also since I saw a bit of the promo for episode 5, I wanted to incorporate that look Ian does up at the building.Ian wants to leave one last impression on Mickey before he leaves.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 83





	You left on a Friday

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [ kitteninmyhair ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitteninmyhair/pseuds/kitteninmyhair) for the kind beta work and helping me find the confidence to post this.

It was a long walk back to his cell and as euphoric as he knew he should be, Ian knew his days were numbered in the prison with his boyfriend. 

_Boyfriend_. 

Mickey Milkovich has been so much more to Ian than just a simple boyfriend/boyfriend relationship. They were family. Leaving the prison meant leaving a family member behind. His _soulmate_. 

As Ian got closer to his cell, his heart was the heaviest it had been since he had said goodbye to Mickey at the Mexico border years ago. Here he was, about to say another goodbye. 

It was pretty early and Mickey would still be asleep, Ian knew, so when his cell was opened and he walked in, Mickey was already facing the wall.

With the most amount of grace and gentleness he could manage on the shitty bed frame, Ian slid into the bottom bunk behind Mickey. He wrapped his arm around his waist and pulled the blanket over them for added warmth. Ian nuzzled into his lover’s neck thinking of their past, present, and future. He began kissing sweetly along Mickey’s neck and shoulder, squeezing him tighter. Kissing again with more purpose and clutching Mickey impossibly closer to his chest. 

By the way Mickey’s breathing felt uneven to Ian, he could tell right away Mickey was awake and had been for a while. When he tried to grab for Mickey’s hand, he was grasping a wad of toilet paper soaked from tears. Mickey let go of it to weave his fingers in with Ian’s and pushed his body back against his lovers in the bed where they had spent everyday since Ian arrived, making love or having wild sex depending which of them you asked. In just a few days all of their intimacy would be gone except for a few phone calls or visits where Ian would touch the glass willing Mickey’s fingers to touch it too.

There was no use in talking about the hearing, Mickey knew he was on borrowed time with Ian, but still he wanted to break the silence.

“You okay, Mick?”

“What do you think, Gallagher?”

Ian frowned against his shoulder as he continued to kiss him all over his neck while spooning him. He should be relieved he would be missed, but the ache in his heart contradicted the pride he felt from the sincerity.

“It’s just a few months, Mick. You just have to keep your nose clean and they’ll let you out. Take my job in the infirmary, they always need people to hand out medication and it makes the time go by faster than that back-breaking construction work they keep making you do. I could put in a good word?” 

_Since I’m leaving_.

“Naw, that’s okay Gallagher. I don’t need your charity.”

“No, seriously, Mick, I’ll tell them. I go in later today and I’ll tell them. I leave Friday, so that’s two days and I’ll...I’ll...”

Ian’s voice broke at the admission of saying “two days” and it echoed in his thoughts and cracked his voice. Suddenly his body felt like it was falling down into a crevasse, down down down. It wasn’t until Mickey had turned around to cup his cheek that he finally came back. But it made no difference, it was Ian’s turn to be outwardly emotional.

“Shh. No. Nope. We aren’t going to spend the last days in this cell together—-“ Ian cried while smiling at what Mickey was saying. Ian would miss the way Mickey always could calm him and ease his mind. “Jesus, crying like faggoty boys. We are men, let’s hold it together. Ya hear me, Gallagher? Don’t be a pussy.”

“Okay, Mick. I think—I think I can do that.”

“Good. Now let’s go get some shitty grits and cold as fuck eggs and come back here. I found a book and I want you to read it to me.”

“What book? You haven’t asked in a long time.” Ian brightened up a bit thinking of reading to his man in their room. 

Mickey paused a beat before bashfully admitting, “Treasure Island.”

This put a smile on Ian’s face and Mickey was already dragging Ian out of the room before he could say anything. He loved how Mickey enjoyed listening to him read. He said Ian had the perfect voice for narrations of the different adventure books Mickey could barely read. Ian captured all of the voices spot on and it was always so soothing to be read to while Ian would lazily comb his fingers through his lover’s jet black hair. Time in prison would stretch out for miles and miles, but with Ian’s sweet voice, he could get through all of those days. 

  
  
  
  


After breakfast, Mickey and Ian got back to the room and the lack of sleep was more than apparent in Mickey’s eyes. As soon as he began reading the book to Mickey and stroked his soft, silky hair, the adorable snores started to ease out of Mickey and Ian wished he could bottle them up. He put the book down and situated himself a little better against the pillows. HIs hand was still holding Mickey’s and he sighed while imagining what had gone on in Mickey’s head to make him want to tattoo “FUCK” on his right fingers and “U-UP” on his left. Life at the Milkovich household was never easy and he probably had to toughen up quickly in the Southside because of the reputation of his father, but Ian always hoped one day the letters would fade into nothing and his hands wouldn’t reflect that life Mickey was once subjected to. 

Maybe Ian could do something as a constant reminder to Mickey that he would always be there for him, no matter the complication.

Two days and Ian would be out of Chicago’s DOC, so he needed to think fast.

  
  
  
  


Mickey woke up a few hours later and Ian was gone. He sighed knowing he had better get used to this kind of thing. Mickey swung his legs around and planted them on the floor while he rubbed the sleep out of his right eye.

“Hey there, sleepy face!” Ian crooned as he looked upside down at Mickey from his upper bunk. “Jesus, Ian! I need to put a fucking bell on you or some shit.” Ian laughed and then plopped down. “Have a good nap?” Mickey shrugged and looked down at the mattress where the “Treasure Island” novel sat. 

“Hey, hey, don’t worry, I’ll try to get through all of it before I go. Listen, I have an idea. I was hoping you could help me with the other part of it.”

“Yeah? What?” Mickey was cranky and Ian loved it. Loved every little grumpy cell in Mickey’s body. It was one of the reasons Ian fell in love with him. He could break down the walls Mickey created and always knew his lover would never take any of Ian’s shit. It was always the perfect balance between them. 

Almost without any hesitation, he began. 

“So, I want you to have this.” Ian pulled out what looked like two small circles of twine and cheap plastic, perhaps it was pieces of a trash bag, but the circle had bits of black and brown and was intricately braided to be made stronger than the material on its own. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” Mickey griped while pointing to the unknown object. Ian sighed and looked up at Mickey with hopeful eyes. 

“Uhm, well, I had an idea. I know it isn’t much, but I spent a couple of hours while you were sleeping getting this stuff from the arts and crafts room and, well, I wanted to make these for us.”

“But what the fuck is it?” Mickey was so impatient and Ian was taking his sweet time to get out the words.

“Mickey, I know that in the past I haven’t been very nice to you while you’ve been in prison and I would be at home. I know I can't erase the past and i wish i could. I want to make it right this time. This is how much you mean to me. You’re more than family, you’re more than my prison lover, more than any lover. I didn’t fall in love with you, I walked into this love with you with my eyes wide open. Mickhailo Milkovich, will you wear this ring as a promise we will get married on the outside? Because I want to marry the shit out of you.”

Mickey was stunned and stayed that way for what seemed to Ian like a lifetime. A proposal mentioning shit in the end probably wasn’t his most eloquent speech, but this was Mickey and there was no real conventional way to propose to Mickey. 

Mickey sighed.

“Ian. I’m not wearing that. Not here.”

“So that’s not a no. Is that a yes?”

“You’re such a fag,” Mickey said as grinned and shook his head, lighting up inside at the growing awareness he was being proposed to by his soulmate.

“Soulmate,” Mickey muttered under his breath, barely audible.

“That’s right, Mick, you and me. Soulmates. So what do you say?”

“Well I’m not wearing that, but yes, I’ll marry you on the outside.”

All of a sudden they could hear whooping and hollering through the vent on both sides and saw the guys on the cell block looking at them as they passed by also making commotion. Neither of the men cared that anyone could see them with tears running down their faces, they were in love and they were going to get married. That was a fact.

“So I have a confession to make, Mick.” Puzzled since only moments had passed since the proposal, Mickey looked into Ian’s eyes as he was adjusting the ring Ian gave him onto his ring finger and then quickly taken off to be put in a safe place in the bottom bunk. 

“Well, what is it fire crotch?” An exasperated look on his face. 

“I hoped you’d say yes to me and no to the ring because I have another surprise.”

“ _Oh my god_ , enough with the fuckin surprises already. Just tell me what it is.”

“So, there’s someone here who does really great tattoos, like as good as on the outside—“ “Andy. Yeah, I know him,” Mickey interrupted. Ian continued, “— and I had this idea, this is where I need to know if you’re even into this, but I want to have our married initials tattooed into our ring fingers, on the inside.” Ian took Mickey’s left hand like it was the most delicate thing in the world. It was always how Mickey liked to be touched by Ian, as if he were a precious diamond or something.

Ian turned Mickey’s left hand over and touched the place where a ring would be seen, pointing to it with his right index finger. “Right here, we could have matching tattoos and when we see it, it’s always a reminder of the promise we made today. Here. In our bed.” Ian smiled and Mickey looked fond. No sarcasm, no joking, but with watery eyes and open hearts. Mickey stared at the sensitive spot Ian was still pointing to and then looked up to Ian who returned his gaze as he cupped his neck with his free hand. Mickey’s eyes were sparkling with unshed tears and he was the most beautiful thing Ian had ever seen. 

“Okay,” Mickey said in a gravelly voice. He repeated. “Okay, Ian.” Feeling pleased and overwhelmed with Mickey’s response, he bent down and kissed the spot on his ring finger, clasped Mickey’s hand around his own, and leaned in to give Mickey a proper kiss on his lips, leaving them both breathless. 

  
  
  


The two promised fiancés went to Andy’s cell and started drawing their initials on a small piece of paper. Without even thinking about it, Mickey had written the initials, “MG” and then handed the paper to Ian. “Gallagher, huh? You didn’t want me to be a Milkovich?” Ian said teasing. Mickey rolled his eyes. “Naw man, I want your name. I don’t want to stop calling you Gallagher either.”

Ian took the pen and wrote his initials, giving Mickey a sincere, heartfelt smile. It all felt like a contract bound to them though there was no proof as far as documentation other than a piece of paper, which was all a marriage license was anyway, right?

Ian handed the papers to Andy and he was getting the needles and ink ready for the tattoo. They only had a small window of time due to the different guards patrolling, but the Chicago DOC was laid back and everyone knew the tattoos came from Andy, hell even the guards got them from Andy for an exchange of longer yard time or a few smuggled Doritos chip bags into Andy’s cell, which of course were his favorite. 

The tattoos were an intimate symbol of just how deep their bond was. The tattoos indicated once and for all that they belonged to each other. Mickey looked down to see Ian’s handwriting on the inside of his own left ring finger with the initials “IG,” but it felt so much more permanent and meaningful compared to the “Ian Galagher” Mickey had tattooed to his chest. 

“MG” in Mickey’s handwriting adorned Ian’s inside left finger. Ian paid Andy with some of his own commissary items and away Ian and Mickey went back to their cell.

Though it hadn’t been a wedding and there was no way for them to have a honeymoon, Ian still picked up Mickey as soon as they got back to the cell and he walked him across the threshold. Mickey laughed in a surprised tone and quickly closed the door behind them as they entered. “Yeah, you’re still a fag, Gallagher.” Mickey squirmed in Ian’s arms which made Ian just hold on tighter. 

“Takes one to know one, _Gallagher_.” Ian smiled into a kiss while he was still holding Mickey and twirled them both around in a tight circle. Normally the ridiculous motion to do something so romantic would send Mickey into a tailspin and make him want to fight Ian, but at this point, Mickey was taking whatever sincere and intimate moment he could get.

Ian knew he could only push his limits so far so when he felt Mickey punching his arm, he held on a little longer, Ian’s muscles firming tight around Mickey’s body. Mickey could never get enough of how Ian could carry him, hold him up while fucking into him, or how they pulsed so slightly when Ian swung into the bottom bunk with morning wood like a horny Gorilla.

Mickey laughed and said “alright, alright, and that’s _future Gallagher_ , set me down.” Ian did as he was told and as soon as he did, Mickey wrapped his arm around Ian’s neck forcefully like he was intending to cause harm and played like he was hitting him hard over and over in the chest like they were in a boxing ring, but really there was no malice in the action, Mickey over the years became like putty in Ian’s hands. They both chortled and kept up the banter for a minute and then settled down for a few more chapters of “Treasure Island.” This time, Ian said all of the lines in even better pirate language. 

“I'm cap'n here by 'lection,” Ian said with enthusiasm. “I'm cap'n here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile. You won't fight, as gentlemen o' fortune should; then, by thunder, you'll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen a better boy than that. He's more a man than any pair of rats of you in this here house, and what I say is this: let me see him that'll lay a hand on him--that's what I say, and you may lay to it!”

With each punch of diction and Ian’s emphatic gestures, Mickey would react into his pillow and against Ian’s chest. Sometimes he angled his body away from Ian so he could have a better view of the gorgeous Gallagher in front of him. He was filled with love and a deeper contentedness knowing they were promised to one another. Mickey would watch his face contort and the beautiful freckled hands that moved so wildly along with the story. Oh yeah, Mickey would miss the hell out of Ian. However long it would be would be too long, even if just a few months.

Once Mickey had fallen back to sleep, Ian wrapped his arms tighter around Mickey and slipped his left hand down to Mickey’s, enjoying the small sting from the still fresh tattoo, an everlasting promise of their love and commitment. Ian kissed into the soft tufts of his lover’s hair and whispered, “I love you, I’ll love you till the day I die. And then I’ll haunt your dreams.” He smiled when Mickey grabbed his torso tighter and Ian could feel the grin against his belly. Mickey had been listening to every word and agreed in silence. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Friday.

Dawn broke and Ian had been up all night tracing the hard and soft edges of Mickey’s face, first with his fingertips and then with his eyes. He wanted to be sure to have a full catalogued memory of Mickey for safe keeping in his brain. They only unfortunate aspect was the lighting which could never frame his features the best, but Mickey looked positively angelic as he slept. Ian took another look at the inside of his hand where Mickey’s handwritten initials branded into his skin and then took Mickey’s hand to see the “IG” tattooed on his inside ring finger, which he would never tire of seeing. Mickey belonged to Ian and this gesture bound them.

“Ow, Jesus. Still hurts like a motherfucker.” Mickey stirred and wiped a hand over his face and looked up at Ian with concern. 

“Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep.” Ian adjusted on his pillow and moved his hand to be placed over Mickey’s heart. 

“Well, fuck, I’m up now. “

“Wanna fool around one last time before I’m out of here?” Mickey smiled brightly at Ian, took his face in his hands and kissed him passionately. Fervently. They took their time undressing each other, still with the darkness wrapped around them. Ian made sure to do all of Mickey’s favorite things including the gentle rimming and fast stroking. Instead of fucking Ian from behind, he stared into his eyes, which twinkled brightly enough Ian could see.

Instead of pain there was rejuvenation, instead of resentment of an early parole there was forgiveness and understanding. Instead of doubt, there was hope. For their lives, their future, and the promise that one day there would be a wedding even if it was just at the town hall. 

Afterwards they lay stroking other’s bodies with Mickey cataloguing all of Ian’s freckles and moles. An activity Ian never minded, especially with Mickey’s fingers caressing all over in remarkably soft fingerprints.

“I love you, Mickey.”

Mickey sighed. “Love you too, Ian.”

“When you get out of here, come find me and we will get married,” he whispered. “Okay? Promise me.”

“I promise, firecrotch. We'll get married. There. You happy?” And Ian was genuinely happy when he walked away from the prison and into Lip’s arms. He turned around to see if he could spot Mickey in any of the windows. He couldn’t, but their future was still in good hands. Theirs. And they had the tattoos to prove it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Kudos and comments are my jam. <3


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